"Oh," the woman says. "I forgot. I need a pack of cigarettes."
No convincing evidence?
Apparently, scientists don't shop at supermarkets.
They don't have to, though. Evidence of the continued
existence of Neanderthal genes in Homo sapiens (i.e., us) is
everywhere. Have you driven on a city street recently? Tell me that Neanderthals aren't driving cars.
Have you ever observed a man at his barbecue grill? Playing with fire is as Neanderthal as it gets.
What about people who don't return your call or reply to your e-mail? Manners are a hallmark of a civilized, modern people. Rudeness is the vestige of a preliterate, grunting people. In other words, Neanderthal. (Judged by that standard, if anything, the Neanderthal genes are on a rampage.)
A friend of mine knows a guy who gave his girlfriend only 10 of the dozen roses he bought her for Valentine's, giving one each to office secretaries. That's Neanderthal enough. But then the guy went on to tell his girlfriend that the next night, Valentine's Day itself, he'd need to get together with a friend and his two women friends for dinner. I don't have any more details than that. Maybe the guy's friend was the president and the women were two of the president's advisors and this was the only time all of them could get together. I don't know. I only know that there is Neanderthal aplenty in this story, and not just on the guy's part, though mostly on the guy's part. The girlfriend has to own up to a bit of Neanderthal genetics herself if she is staying with the guy.
I think you can see Neanderthal genes every day. Yelling at the television during a sports event as if it will somehow change the outcome. Neanderthal. Throwing or breaking one's golf club. Neanderthal. Beavis and Butthead, Jackass,